


hit it from the back and drive you wild

by gayslayer



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, ao3 change your analingus tag challenge, as usual james has the idea and aleks has the regrets, eating ass, james wilson has a black belt in eating ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 04:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayslayer/pseuds/gayslayer
Summary: If the texts James has been sending him all week during work hours are anything to go by, he should be in the middle of “the ass-eating of his life” right about now. Instead, he’s cold and losing the last dregs of his self-esteem, and James is having a staring competition with his hole that was never agreed on by both parties.





	hit it from the back and drive you wild

**Author's Note:**

> title from "mine" by bazzi. no one look at me or i'll scream

The problem, he thinks, is that he trusts James far too much.

Aleks can count on one hand how many times he’s found himself in situations so problematic that his fight or flight response has spontaneously activated and James _wasn’t_ the reason. He should honestly know better at this point, but it’s James.

It’s his huge baby chinchilla eyes, and his solid grip on Aleks’s knee, and the sweet warmth that imbues his voice when he’s being earnest. It’s honestly entrancing, and the next thing Aleks knows, the warehouse is being evacuated, or they’re being banned from yet another chain store in California, or one fence and their bloodied hands from climbing it are all that separates them from the other end of a thorough ass-beating.

Or, in this case, Aleks is naked on his hands and knees, a deathly silence has permeated the room, and the only thing alerting him to the fact that James hasn’t left the room or died is that Aleks can still feel him breathing. _On his asshole._

“Are you waiting for a fucking red carpet to roll out?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but his voice is as tense as he feels, pulled taut and half muffled where he’s tipped his face into the comforter. He feels like a resistance band about to snap in Brett’s hands.

A huff of laughter, still positioned right against his asshole. Aleks twitches.

If the texts James has been sending him all week during work hours are anything to go by, he should be in the middle of “the ass-eating of his life” right about now. Instead, he’s cold and losing the last dregs of his self-esteem, and James is having a staring competition with his hole that was never agreed on by both parties.

They haven’t done this yet, and in fact, Aleks has never had this done properly yet in his life. He spent an awkward half hour thoroughly preparing himself before James came over. He waited on the bed for him, naked and open in a way that makes him feel like he’s pulled his own chest cavity open so James can admire his heart. He trusted the fuckshit, and now James is _ruining it_.

“What the fuck are you doing back there?” he snaps, unable to contain the anxiety coiling thick in his ribcage anymore, and using it to verbally lash James instead. He won’t look at James. He can’t. “If you don’t want to do it anymore, just say it so I can go play Spyro.”

“No!” James digs his fingernails into Aleks’s skin where he’s holding his ass open, and has been for way too long, making him jump. “Don’t leave, I’m just- I’m looking _."_

“You’ve seen it before!” He doesn’t mean to sound so petulant, but his neck hurts from this position, and he’s fucking embarrassed. James has done this before with other people, he shouldn’t be the one freaked out right now. That honour should only go to Aleks.

“I know, dude, but not like this. It’s,” James starts, pausing to lick his lips audibly. His voice is unnervingly gentle. “It’s nice. I almost expected, like, plastic wrap on it or something, it looks so perfect.”

“I douched my fucking heart out for you, so it better be nice.” It escapes his mouth before he can stop it. He has hit the ceiling of embarrassment and broken through into utter mortification. He’s _shaking._

It takes Aleks a minute to realize the shaking is coming from James, who is in such utter, silent hysterics against Aleks’s ass that he’s shaking the entire bed with the force of it.

“Fuck you!” It rips out of him on a laugh, and then they’re both losing it, Aleks with his face buried in the comforter, James with his face buried in Aleks’s ass. It’s absurd. He really shouldn’t have expected any better, from either of them.

“I swear, dude,” he gasps, “if you don’t stop laughing into it and just eat it already, I’m going to change my-”

Without warning, James presses his flattened tongue to the ticklish spot at the base of Aleks’s balls and licks up in a wide, hard swath against his hole. His words are swallowed by what he will never acknowledge is a yelp. James doesn’t let up, following it with another, and another, methodically covering every inch of skin from the valley of his lower back to his dick, first with maddeningly soft kisses on the way down, then with flicks of his tongue on the way up that make Aleks quake.

The thing is, Aleks has technically done this before. A few guys (and one very adventurous girl) have tried this on him, and it’s only ever been brief and disappointing, or as a piss-poor substitute for adequate preparation. But he’s never been this exposed, this vulnerable. It’s never been like this. The only way Aleks can describe it is that it feels like he has endless chords inside him, and James is strumming them all at once, every one fitting together in mind-bending harmonies.

James doesn’t let up, fingertips digging into Aleks’s cheeks as he holds him open, arms firmly braced against his outer thighs so he has nowhere to go. Aleks feels helpless, and he fucking loves it.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he chokes, hips jerking involuntarily as James imperceptibly dips his tongue just past the rim of his hole on his way past, beard rasping against the sensitive skin of Aleks’s perineum. He’s being teased, he realizes, as a moan that sounds decidedly more like a whine comes out of him.

His heart is throbbing in his dick, heady waves of sensation making him dizzy. He can see, from the awkward way his face is crushed against the comforter in an attempt to watch James work, that he’s flushed an alarming shade of red, dick straining as he leaks heavy streaks of precome onto the soft plane of his stomach. He hasn’t even been touched yet.

Aleks is about to ask James if he plans to tease him for another year before actually doing anything, when James actually does something. Namely, he circles the tip of his tongue around Aleks’s hole, making achingly slow revolutions, tripping every nerve ending Aleks never knew he had. His toes curl so hard that he hears a few of them crack.

“Oh fuck, James, oh fuck, oh fuck? Oh fuck.” He’s goddamn babbling, white-knuckling the sheets. Every downstroke of the circle makes his hips twitch back into James’s face, which feels smug, and Aleks wants to hate him for reducing him to this state so easily, but all he wants is more, more. He’s saying it, he doesn’t even hear himself at first until James pulls away, and his hips rock back in a weak attempt to chase the sensation.

Aleks absolutely _will not_ whine.

“You like that, princess?” Aleks’s eyes snap open at that, and he rears back to look at James over his shoulder. He’s trying his best to be pissed, but the name sends another sharp edge of pleasure slicing up into him, and he can’t hold himself together.

“Don’t fucking stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-” He’s whining. Begging _,_  really. James is just watching him, so calm, lower lip caught between his teeth, those unnervingly dark eyes glittering with pride.

“You want more?” He’s certainly enjoying himself. The wet tip of one finger takes the place of his tongue, circling even more slowly, dipping just past the first ring of muscle and initiating the slow burn Aleks has grown to love. It radiates sweetly down the backs of his thighs as he tries to rock back, take James in further, and is denied. Anger is simmering somewhere underneath the arousal taking over Aleks’s body, curling insidiously into his brain and turning him into a pathetic mess.

“James, _please_ , for fuck’s sake, give it back, I want it back,” he groans. The signal his brain sent was definitely ‘flip James off and leave,’ not ‘beg like a fucking slut,’ but he’s apparently no longer in control. James is, and he knows it.

James really could give him more shit for it, but he just smiles beatifically and replaces his finger with his tongue. His whole tongue. He’s licking hot, thick stripes again with his tongue flattened on Aleks’s hole, and then he’s circling again, and Aleks is genuinely about to cry if he has another hour of that in store, but then James is working the tip past one ring of muscle, then two, and then he’s- he’s-

James is fucking Aleks with his tongue.

James is eating his ass like it’s nuclear winter and the key to a heated bunker is lost in Aleks’s asshole. James is eating his ass like they just got done watching a grainy video of a demented puppet telling them that they’re both about to die unless they can retrieve the cure before a timer goes off, and there’s a huge question mark painted over Aleks’s asshole. James is eating his ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, working his tongue in and _twisting_ , wet heat undulating inside of him, and Aleks’s body has replaced his exhalation function with an endless litany of broken moans. They’re closer to screams than he’s comfortable admitting.

This is the problem. James is a being made entirely of infuriating traits, and most infuriating is that at his absolute worst, he’s still really fucking good at sex. He’s a dick magician. A dicksmith, as James himself likes to call it. He could get Aleks hard in the eye of a hurricane made of Republicans.

The problem isn’t that Aleks has to deal with being destroyed by cock every other day; he’s acclimated to it. What’s hellish about James is that once you’re used to him ruining your life with one thing, he whips another thing out of his sleeve, and inevitably that goes up your ass, too. And Aleks _adores_ him for it.

He rolls his hips back shamelessly, as much fucking himself onto James’s tongue as James is thrusting it into him. It’s not long enough, but the tip of his tongue does make a valiant effort to reach Aleks’s prostate, searingly hot rotations making the nerves around the edges of it tingle in recognition, and he needs it like he’s never needed anything in his life.

With the little amount of motor function he has left, Aleks reaches beneath himself and wraps a sweaty palm around his aching dick, swiping his thumb at the tip and making himself jump. It does nothing to relieve the pressure, or make him feel less like he’s about to get evicted from his apartment under the rare lease violation, “screaming for dick at 3 in the afternoon,” but it helps.

James pulls away.

 " _No!_ ” He’s actually yelling. Voice modulation isn’t within his realm of control anymore either. James is trying to work two fingers into him, emboldened by how loose and wet he is just from James’s tongue, and Aleks reaches back before he can think and slaps his hand away.

“Dude, what are you- do you want me to stop?” James understandably looks baffled, and contrite all of a sudden, and sort of gross with spit all over him, but Aleks has no time to explain himself or kiss the look off of his face. He’s on his back faster than a human being probably should be able to move and yanking him down by the shoulders, legs scrabbling at James’s sides for purchase.

“If you don’t shut up and fuck the hell out of me right now, I swear to God that I will never speak to you again.” Aleks doesn’t recognize his own voice, it’s so ragged. To his credit, James shuts up for once, though he has what Aleks will never be able to comfortably refer to as a shit-eating grin on his face. He hikes Aleks’s thighs up onto his shoulders with one hand, fumbling for the lube with the other.

Aleks’s body makes the executive decision without him to punch it out of his hand. He’s wet, yeah, but he realizes too late that he’s not that wet. For a torturously long moment, they both just look at it on the floor with the kind of desperation he imagines is felt only by castaways watching their fresh water supply sink to the bottom of an active volcano.

“Dude, this isn’t the fucking jungles of Victorian England where they had to make do! We need that!“

“Shit, just fuckin- _James, pick it up_!”

_"_ ** _Why are you the one yelling at me when I’m not the one who threw it on the floor?!”_ **

It takes a fairly absurd minute of grappling , but James gets what he needs, and tosses the bottle back onto the floor. It makes a sloshing noise that should probably be alarming, but Aleks is too busy coming out of his skin with relief because James is running a slick hand over himself and finally, _finally_ lining up.

James is laughing, slipping the same tongue that was just inside Aleks into his mouth. Aleks wants to kill him. He kisses him back instead, muffling the broken whimpering that has replaced his words between them, clutching at James like he’s drowning when he feels James easily nudging his way in. He’s unpleasantly sticky from spit and lube, and he’ll have to remember to be annoyed later, but for now he’s reduced to keening gratefully as James bottoms out with one insistent thrust.

“You love it,” James is panting, letting Aleks get used to the absolutely goddamned delightful stretch with little rocking thrusts, not really doing anything productive. Aleks just shakes, voice breaking in a whimper with each frantic beat of his heart. It seems to have settled in the head of his dick if the way it throbs and twitches on his stomach is any indication. He’s so fucking gone, he’s barely even listening. “You love it when I eat your fucking pussy, dude.”

“Oh, my god.” It comes out as a sob. James takes the hint because he starts fucking Aleks in earnest, too impatient to letting him get used to the burn, and honestly, Aleks couldn’t care less. His fingers are buried in James’s hair where it’s escaping its confinement at the nape of his neck, his legs in a vice grip over James’s shoulders. James is fucking him like they’re on a deadline, taking Aleks apart with every calculated thrust, not letting either of them breathe for even a second.

His lube-slicked palm slips between them and finds Aleks’s cock where it rests neglected against his stomach, pumping off-rhythm with his thrusts, and Aleks feels actual tears starting to burn in the corners of his eyes with how overwhelmed he feels. It settles thickly into his stomach, over top of the need to come so urgent that it feels like panic.

Honestly, Aleks has actually forgotten anything else existed. His universe has narrowed to the point where James’s unreasonably large dick is gliding over his prostate with every cant of his hips, and outside of that, nothing makes contact.

“Next time,” James gasps against his lips, “next time I’m spreading you out across Brett’s desk and eating you right there where everyone can fucking hear you.”

Aleks comes for everything he’s worth.

It tears through him with vicious intensity, and he clenches down on James so hard that he sees stars, vision whiting out. James loses the ability to hold himself up out of sheer surprise and collapses onto Aleks, knocking the wind out of them both. James sounds like he just dead-lifted 500 pounds, panting raggedly into Aleks’s hair until Aleks finds the will to release the vice grip around his dick.

It’s too much. James is really goddamned big, and Aleks feels too much at once, like every nerve below the waist is turned up to eleven. When James pulls out, he can’t stop himself from canting his hips back a few times on the way, and they groan in unison through it. He’s still hard, his cock flushing a shade of red that probably isn’t medically advisable, but Aleks is pretty sure that orgasm liquified every bone in his body. He cannot move.

“Come on me.” Aleks hears himself say it like he’s outside of his body, motioning to his chest with the arm that isn’t thrown over his eyes, gasping for air and feeling like the trachea he’s had for several decades is suddenly inadequate. He doesn’t care about anything anymore but James coming.

James obliges with gusto, doubling over Aleks with a grip on his dick that looks like it has to hurt and letting out a moan that Aleks feels in his core. He feels more than he sees James come, fidgeting at the sensation of come striping his abdomen, arcing up over his chest, even hitting his _fucking_ _chin_. It feels like a lot, and he tries not to grimace as James crumples onto the bed next to him, tucking his blissful face into Aleks’s shoulder.

“Gross, dude.” He means to be annoyed, he really does. It comes out sounding like _I love you_.

They spend a few moments in silence, skin to skin, just basking in it. When the power to construct a sentence returns to him, Aleks sits up on his elbows, tilting his head down at James with a ridiculous smile tugging at his lips.

“Did you call it my _pussy_?” That’s all it takes. Aleks, mess and all, collapses onto James, and they dissolve into hysterics.

Brett’s going to fire them both and ban them from the warehouse when he catches them fucking in his office, and probably a thousand more times after that, but it’ll be so worth it. James always is.


End file.
